Between the Covers
by d3lyricool3xi
Summary: My name is Isabella Swan, and I'm a twenty-one year old English major at NYU. As such, I'm used to reading books, and there's one that I have read down to a science- the school prince, Edward Cullen. But one day, a chance sighting at a club teaches me not to judge a book by its cover, because you never really know what's between it. M for language & lemons. OOC/AH/Canon couples


**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or any characters associated with it. I just like to use them and make them have a bit more fun than they did in the original. Hope you enjoy it.**

**Summary: Bella Swan is a twenty-one year old English major. She's used to reading books, and one she thinks she has read is Edward Cullen, the school's Prince. But a chance meeting at a club one night will teach her not to judge a book by its cover, because you never know what's under it. Rated M for lemons and language, as well as some adult situations.**

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**May 16, 2013**

**Word prompt: Daydream**

**Scenario: Write about what happens when you meet someone you admire, but they turn out to be not as you expected.**

**Complete the scenario in any way, in any style, and for any word count. Open your mind and follow where it leads, writing as you go.**

**_Chapter 1- Daydream_**

_ That's my dreamworld, that's my dreamworld_

_ It's more than a dream_

_ Dreamworld, that's my dreamworld_

_ And I wanna live in my dream, dream_

_ For the real world just don't feel right_

_ I wouldn't spend my days searching for_

_ Searching for lost time_

_ -Dreamworld, Robin Thicke_

**~*BTC*~**

"The usual, please," I said, slapping my money down onto the counter.

"Comin' right up, Swan," the bartender said, sending me a wink, which I returned with a smile. I sat back on my stool, stretching and letting out a breath as I let the week slip away. I let the sounds of chatter and laughter, clinking glasses, and loud music fill my ears and felt myself relaxing already. God, I needed this. School had been kicking my ass this week with tests in three of my core classes and had left me feeling entirely too tense. I made small talk with the bartender as he made my drink before setting my Strawberry Daiquiri on the table with a flourish.

"Did you save me a table?" I asked him as I took a sip, immediately grinning. He always managed to make it perfectly. I gave him a wink of approval and he returned it as he reached out and took his money, slipping it into his pocket. He never took it until I said I was satisfied with the drink- something I sometimes cashed in on to get free drinks, but now I just wanted to indulge.

"Don't I always? Same spot- perfect view of the floor," he said. I took another sip of my drink, nodding.

"Thanks, Quil." He nodded back and sent me one last smile. He opened his mouth to say something just as a big-breasted black woman in a revealing red dress called for a drink at the other end of the bar. He looked her over and then smirked.

"Sorry, Swan. Gotta go please the customers," he said before he went to take her order. I laughed and shook my head as he leaned over the bar flirtatiously; flexing his muscles and making them strain against his black t-shirt, making the woman giggle. I got up, thinking about him as I walked to my table at the other end of the club.

He was one of the first friends I made when I came here from my little hometown of Forks in Washington three years ago. I'd been out of my element, this huge concrete jungle so different from the green and rain that I'd grown up with all of my life. It was him who helped me when I couldn't find my apartment and him who'd shown me all the little secrets of New York besides the usual tourist attractions- including this bar that he owned. He was handsome, a tall, muscular full-blooded Native American complete with the impossibly high cheekbones, long dark hair and almond-shaped dark eyes, tanned skin, and a mischievous, disarming smile. We'd tried the romance thing about a year into my being here, but we'd agreed it didn't feel right after making out and just kept being close friends, which was why I was able to know I'd get my own table here every Friday night at a very full, popular underground club. I was a lucky woman.

I sighed with relief as I sat down at my small circular table in the corner near the dance floor. I loved being here. It was in Inner City New York, where few of my classmates ventured. It was just like I wanted- once the week was over, I didn't want to think about school or any of my classmates. I just wanted to unwind with a drink or two. Sometimes I danced- amazingly, I was pretty good at it, my clumsiness seeming to be overridden by my mom's dancing DNA. Otherwise, I just sat and unwound and watched other people. I'd always liked to watch people, and watching them while their inhibitions were down and they were bent on having a good time was always entertaining. And since Quil didn't tolerate drugs or sex here, I could have a good time without worrying about danger.

I looked around, liking the décor as always. It was pretty generic, with a dance floor and a huge DJ stand up at the back, and an area for the circular tables in the front near the entrance with the bar to the right. A door to the left of the bar led to a second room that was filled with pool tables and old arcade games, as well as some games like air hockey and that one game with the little football men that you turned with knobs to hit the ball. I never could remember the name of it. The walls were painted a dark gray, with lots of white, black, and metallic used for the furniture and decorations. There were lots of Native American paraphernalia around providing the only real color, showing Quil's roots. He was an expert at all types of drinks so there was always a great selection. The music was great; the DJ always played a mix of old school and new and was good at knowing when to transition from sensual to loud and pumping to slow. Since it was Friday, wind-down day, he was going on the more slow and sensual side. It was reflected in the people around me, who were mostly sitting around drinking, talking, and flirting, and the people on the dance floor, who were grinding and swaying to the beat.

"Holy shit, look at_ that_," I heard a girl at the table next to me say on a sigh. The other girls with her made similar remarks and I followed their gazes curiously to see a man dancing on the floor. He was moving with ease and fluidity to the pounding beat, his moves sensual and natural. I felt a quickening of interest as his hands moved over the blonde-haired girl grinding against him, sexual tension obvious in every move they made. He was hypnotic and I looked closer to try and get a glimpse of him, sucking my teeth in annoyance when a surge of people got on the dance floor as the song switched to the heavy bass beat of The Wobble Song, blocking my view. I watched for several moments, sipping my drink and hoping to catch another glimpse and was about to give up when there was a sudden gap in the grinding bodies, giving me a clear view of him just as he turned toward my direction.

My breath caught in stunned realization when I saw who it was- Edward Cullen, the campus Prince.

I'd seen him across campus, of course; you couldn't _not _notice him. His very presence commanded attention. He was the star student of the entire campus- he had a 4.3 GPA, even with all of the hard classes he was taking. I couldn't really remember what his major was, but I remember it being something having to do with science that was noted to be difficult. He was also the star player on the basketball and track teams, appearing in newspapers the whole state over and in several others for his athletic abilities. If that wasn't enough, he was the son of Carlisle and Esme Cullen- one of the top surgeons in the country and the most sought-after athletic physical therapist in this area. He was polite and reserved, yet popular and charismatic, and driven. To top it all off, he was handsome- and when I say handsome, I mean devastatingly, dazzlingly, unworldly good-looking.

He was lean yet muscular and stood well over six feet tall. He had wild, almost curly hair that was an unusual color of bronze, almost the exact shade of a brand new penny, and piercing green eyes a shade darker than emerald. His skin was pale and flawless, his features sharp and chiseled. He managed to make his usual outfits of a button down shirt, khakis, and loafers look fashionable rather than stuffy and dorky. He always carried himself with grace and poise, no matter where you saw him. He was perfect in every way, and completely out of my league. I had always looked up to him.

I was his opposite. I was smart, obviously- I was in an Ivy League school, but that was only after busting my ass off in high school and earning a free ride through a scholarship. I still struggled to keep up my 3.8 GPA as it was. My nights out partying obviously weren't helping, but I refused to give them up. I was majoring in English, but I was starting to realize I wasn't sure what I wanted to do with myself when I graduated and got my degree. I didn't have an athletic bone in my body; it was enough for me to tackle the harrowing task of walking across the ground each day without adding balls and running into the mix. My parents were ordinary adults from a small town- my dad was a cop and my mom was a dance teacher for elementary kids. And I, while pretty enough, wasn't anything special- I had pale, almost pasty skin with long brown hair and brown eyes and stood at five foot four. He was everything I wasn't, and I knew I'd never have a chance of meeting him in hell. Yet, here he was in a place no one would ever expect him to be. Even though he was popular, you never really heard of Edward Cullen partying and socializing. It was why I was so stunned he was here, and I was going to take advantage of it.

Even how he looked was a huge shock. My eyes greedily drank in his form- his tight white V-necked t-shirt clung to his torso, the shift of each toned muscle obvious as he danced. I was stunned to see the tale-tell black ink of a tattoo peeking from under his collar, where a thin gold chain with a ring hung against his sweaty skin. His dark washed jeans were just tight enough to showcase powerful muscular legs and hint at what lay between them as his hips moved. As if he also needed to blessed in that department. The look was finished with scuffed black motorcycle boots. This was so different than the preppy look he always sported, and exactly my type. I couldn't get enough and sat there entranced, my drink forgotten in my hand. I watched and watched as he grinded and swiveled his hips and ran his hands over his partner until he turned around, his green eyes suddenly connecting with mine over the shoulder of the girl grinding her ass against him. I was frozen, my eyes wide as his seared into them right before a small, knowing smirk appeared on his face.

Instantly I was assailed with an image so heady and dizzying that I knew I would be using it that night, and many to come. We were in our own dance, but this was far more intimate- our naked bodies grinding together, with gasps and moans and sweat mixing together on top of tangled white sheets. I could almost imagine the feel of his skin, smooth yet rough and so warm as his large hands passed over my body. I could almost hear the sounds of his groans and grunts as he pushed and pulled inside of me, feel his growls vibrating against my skin. I could see those green eyes smoldering down into mine as his face contorted with pleasure, could see those full pink lips slack and open and molding around my name as he-

"Bella!" a voice that definitely wasn't Edward's shouted near my ear. I gasped, snapping out of my **daydream **as my drink tilted toward me and spilled over onto my shirt.

"Shit!" I said, jumping up to keep the rest of it from leaking onto me. I looked over into the wide and guilty gray eyes of my best friend, Alice.

"Oh god, sorry, Bella!" she said, grabbing some napkins and handing them to me.

"It's fine," I muttered, blotting at my outfit the best I could with a grimace. I just had to wear my favorite tight white Paramore t-shirt, didn't I? Just my luck. With a resigned sigh, I whipped it off, glad I'd decided to wear a black tank top and a bra. It still matched my shoes, so I figured it didn't matter.

"I'm really sorry, Bella," she said with a guilty frown, and I smiled at her genuinely. She was so hyper that she couldn't help making those kinds of mistakes. I looked at her as she stood there with her pout. She was tiny, barely five feet, with dainty features and pitch black hair cut short and stylish, and wore a cut-up pink shirt over a black tank-top and a short black skirt, complete with tall hot pink heels. I couldn't stay mad at her when she looked like that, and I needed to wash my laundry this weekend anyway.

"It's really fine, Al. Besides, this looks good, doesn't it?" Her eyes ran from my high-pony tail down to my tank top, tight dark skinny jeans, and black peep-toe heels. She ended with a satisfied sigh and I smirked; I always loved making her satisfied with my outfit, as she was a fashion major and had really helped me improve my clothing style since I moved here. Let's just say you could tell I came from a small town, but now I blended in.

"It looks awesome, babe," she said, finally stepping in to give me a hug before settling into the chair opposite from me and motioning for a drink. I waited as she ordered her usual, a Fuzzy Navel, and then turned to me when she was done. We talked a bit about how our week was- she went to a different college than I and we didn't get to spend much time together as we were both busy with school, so we always used the weekends to catch up, Friday nights in particular. She told me about yet another episode of her teacher's bitchiness about her designs, and I in turn told her about all of my tests. We'd made it through almost three drinks each by the time we were done, and I was really relaxed now, feeling a pleasant buzz.

"I wish I was the one going home with him tonight," the same girl said beside us, and my ears perked.

Another girl gave out a sigh. "Me too. Did you see the way he moved? And with those hands, you just know he was packing."

"I know. I wish I could meet someone that fine," the girl responded. I immediately craned my neck toward the dance floor, searching for Edward in vain. I let out a sigh of disappointment when I didn't find him. When I looked back at Alice, she was staring at me questioningly.

"You know who they're talking about?" she asked curiously. I nodded.

"I saw him," I said casually.

"Damn. I miss all the good stuff," she said, flopping back with a dramatic sigh and pout.

"Yea well, you'll probably see him at a game somewhere or something." She immediately sat up, narrowing her eyes.

"Really? How? Who was it? Do I know him?" she asked rapidly. She was nosy and couldn't stand waiting for answers to her questions, so I drew it out, taking a long sip of my daiquiri. "Bella!" she said impatiently after exactly five seconds, and I smirked as I put my drink back down.

Taking a deep breath, I dramatically said, "It was Edward Cullen."

Alice stared at me in disbelief. I watched as she processed the information and, not surprisingly, rolled her eyes. She looked around and I did too; he was nowhere in sight now.

"Yeah right. Edward Cullen, here? Your daydreams are getting a little out of hand, Bella," she said with a dismissive snort. I could tell she'd already moved onto something else in that fast-moving brain of hers. She stood up, already bristling with energy, just as she did ninety-five percent of the time, the five percent that she didn't being when she was asleep. Even then she slept wild and talked. I couldn't remember really seeing her still ever since we met besides the few weeks after her parents died. She turned to me, holding out her small hand. "Come on, let's go dance."

I shrugged, taking her hand. I knew I'd seen him; the memory of his intense gaze and sexy smirk was burned into my brain. As I followed Alice to the dance floor, I knew that Edward Cullen wasn't as he seemed.

I just didn't know how much then.

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**They didn't exactly meet, but they saw each other and she imagined them, um, "meeting"...That counts for something, right? LOL**

**As you can see, these are based on Witfit prompts, whichever ones inspire me. It will update often- I won't promise every day, but I do promise at least twice a week unless RL decides to make it difficult. I don't plan for there to be any real angst, as I'm not that good at it, but there will be some drama. I'm nervous about flying by the seat of my pants, but I want to try it. **

**So, what do you think? I hope you liked it. **

**I'd love to hear from you guys so please send me a review!**

**Thanks for reading. :)**


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